A Robin in Nightingale feathers
by my-blue-eyes-can-cry
Summary: Brynjolf recruits his golden thief a little differently than the game described. This story follows the thieves guild quest line with my own version of the plot where the Dragonborn is a master thief with a few narcissistic bones and an adrenaline addiction that gives her a bit more trouble than necessary. Slight DBxB and KxB
1. Chapter 1

**Hi All, this is a remake of my unfinished story 'the song I sing' I wasn't really liking the style of it and how our main character was portrayed. For a quick summary, this story delves into a different way the dragonborn joins and saves the thieves guild, basically about an overintelligent masterthief with a bit of an adrenaline addiction and a bad case of arrogance who learns her place in the guild and teaches Brynjolf his. BxDB and BxKarliah.**

**Chapter One: The Brightest shadow**

Brynjolf rested his back lazily against the market stall, it was raining on this dreary day in Riften, and the townsfolk certainly knew about it.

But he kept his place, occasionally calling out with trained heart about his false elixirs, smelling the cold dampness of wet leaves and sunshine. As the day rolled through, he found himself noticing a presence he hadn't before.

A Cydillic beauty leaned against another wall, near the temple, her eyes closed and her lips apart, allowing the fresh wet air to fill her lungs. She wore noble clothing, fancy dresses of the like you wouldn't even see in Skyrim, and you even could see the Goosebumps on her lily white skin as proof of the little difference the thin silk made, keeping her body out of eye's sight like a second skin.

She wore a simple necklace, although undoubtedly valuable, a thin silver chain twisting into the arms of a silver robin with jeweled eyes, matching the brilliant red of her hair.

But her wealth was as plain as day, which actually made Brynjolf's job slightly more difficult.

See, the faction he ran with, had a handful of talented members, all with their own wealth varying, their aesthetic clothing generally hung in the wardrobe so not to attract attention, as is a shadow wielder's way.

But there the lass stood, brighter than the sun on this dreary day, without a care in the world. But her naked fingers were thin, calloused, nimble and undoubtedly quick, he could see folds in her clothing that were well hidden and easily accessible, she did well to keep her possessions out of sight.

She knew pickpockets were a threat, she knew how they worked.

Her purse was kept inside her boot rather than at her belt.

Not that she was wearing a belt with such clothing.

By now, the girl had opened her eyes, and although the girl had a shapely body and beautiful hair, he found her eyes to be quite dull, they were dark, much like a Redguards, black even. There was a certain need in them, but although sizing up a mark was his specialty, her particular need was far from reach that he could wrap his mind around. Although her eyes intrigued him, it was the fire behind them, not the black marbles themselves.

And she was looking straight at him, walking over slowly and cautiously, like a cat when it spied its prey in hopes not to frighten it.

"Need something?" She asked softly, her voice was like a purr.

"I was just thinking that there's allot of gold you're carrying considering you didn't earn a Septim of it honestly"

She then grinned, pink lips pulling back over white teeth, "You might want to finish that sentence."

He grinned, "I run with a certain faction that's all about wealth, I may have a proposition for you, if you were interested."

Her eyes quickly searched his face, probing his thoughts with her own. "Go on…"

"Well my client has eyes set on putting Brand-Shei out of business, and that's when we come in. If you plant Madesi's ring on him whilst I destract the crowd, things should go smoothly, and you'll walk away just a little bit richer."

"Done"

The way she said the words, it's as if they bored her. He was mildly shocked to say the least at how quickly she replied, not a thought to process.

And before he had the chance to open her mouth, she was glued to the shadows like a master, the dark colored satin of her dress folded over her bright hair much like a hidden hood, one lock pick in hand she waited near Madesi's stall for him to start his speech.

So he started to cry to the crowds that began to gather round to an audience. She was seconds on the lock, and emptying the strongbox in moments, and as she slowly stepped towards the elf to complete the second half of the plan he noticed the fire in her eyes raging furiously.

And he realized then what the hunger was.

Her fingers slipped inside the dunmer's pocket brilliantly and neatly, placing the ring comfortably deep and pulling out at a steady pace.

She obviously was trained from somewhere. The technique was standard thieves guild but she had done every step seamlessly that she might have even mastered the traits.

So he ended his speech and stepped down to congratulate her, to offer her prize, to extend the family's arms to her.

Only to find no trace of her.

What a strange thief she was.

He must remind himself to tell Delvin of her over a tankard of mead when he next visited the Flagon.

**It's a bit short, I'll be going with my usual 3 reviews requirement for an update. Keep reading and reviewing! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and future chapters.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the wait, I thought I'd NEVER get that third review.**

**Shoutouts:**

**freewheeler26: COOKIES for being the first reviewer! Thanks, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**DarkAngel1345: you bet! got to make sure it's worth uploading afterall...**

**AgressiveNegotiations: Well here's your 'more'! Hopefully you didn't hold your breath**

**Hope you all enjoy this Chapter**

**Chapter 2: A fall from grace**

When Brynjolf left the stall for the Flagon, he expected the guild to be merrily drinking into the spiced wine and Black Briar reserves

Vex was due to return from a large job at the Goldenglow estate just outside of Riften, things were expected to go smoothly, they usually did, Vex was an infiltrator to be admired.

But when he did return he was following a dark damp trail that still had the metallic stink of blood mixed with the rainwater of the afternoon.

Vex was in her bed, surrounded by her fellow members, her armor tossed aside showing enough skin to make Mallory blush had there not been more blood than skin showing.

Arrows were being pulled out, piece by piece, and being placed into a bucket by the bed. Her usual poker face was wet with tears.

Brynjolf was chewing mercilessly on his tongue and giving his teeth a grind that he'd regret later.

"Fucking…. Aringoth… bastard filled up the entire estate with… FUCK!" She winced as another arrow was removed from between her ribs.

Brynjolf knew she would be out of action for months rather than weeks.

And what a brilliant time of the year to take a day off, with Maven sending cold barks up and down their spines about Aringoth putting a threat onto her business, they were lucky she didn't wade through the ratways and shake their shirts until all they owned fell out just to get her message through.

But those thoughts weren't helping as he looked on at Vex with merciful eyes, burn marks up and down her thighs and cuts, bruises and plenty of holes where there should be skin.

And Mercer just sat at the other end of the Cistern behind a wall of paperwork and a desk, pretending to be busy. He generally followed the strict routines of avoiding the other members on any time of the week, he sort Brynjolf's council on the rare occasion but during crisis Mercer had developed several hiding places that he dived deep into for as long as the crisis held.

Brynjolf held his head high and felt his tongue grow hot, he put his hands against the Breton's desk and glared straight into the eyes of the guildmaster.

"You said she could handle it."

"I assumed she could."

"She might not have come back"

"She would have proved her worth"

"Who would infiltrate in her place"

"I know of a certain nord who doesn't do much around here."

Brynjolf was boiling over in such short amounts of conversation, "Don't be an idiot!"

"You're supposed to bring in new members, we haven't seen a new recruit in nearly three years! I expect Vex's replacement is well on their way because there's not a chance she'll be hopping through Goldenglow's hoops again in the next moon."

Brynjolf growled under his breath about impossibilities and rude abuses, and something about using the sharp end of a spear to giving a certain Breton's prostate a good probe.

But none of that mattered. Because he met the girl already, he knew that such a replacement existed, but tracking her down was another story.

He just had to prey to any divine or daedra that was paying attention that night to listen.

And as it happens, Lady Luck herself had her eye on a thief not far away.

**If you have any critique or compliments, feel free to drop them by, I'll need at least 3 reviews per chapter for a new one to be released. Newest chapters are up in maximum of 48 hours of the 3****rd**** review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter was a bit fun to write, I've been trying to add detail to the story, a touch of depth, allowing you to see into our little thief without getting an earful. Hope that worked.**

**Shoutouts:**

**DarkAngel1345: Yeah, I kind of found it funny that in the game that nobody mentioned Vex actually got any injuries from Goldenglow, I mean she FAILED so you'd assume she had something to show for it! COOKIES for being the first reviewer!**

**Guest: Thanks, will try my best to!  
**

**Baby Fawn: Let's hope it gets there!  
**

**This chapter is in her point of view, hope you enjoy!  
**

**Chapter 3: The capture**

The light from the manor was enough to light the yard enough to see, but only just, the shadows were everywhere, hardly worth sticking to.

The thief pulled a red strand of hair aside and back into her ponytail as she looked over the yard. Mercenaries were everywhere and the ground was muddy from earlier rain, she wondered for a brief moment if the hives would light but brushed the thought aside as she continued.

For such an outing, she had put aside her long silk dress in exchange for thin loose clothing that clung to her skin in the places she needed it to and gave her much room in her joints and stomach, it had many pockets up her legs and arms with small buttons to keep them shut and plenty of small tools strapped to a piece of leather tied to her waist acting half-heartedly as a belt.

She looked suspicious enough but with her expertise of fitting the shadows around her, she knew the plan would go off like a firecracker in success.

The water of the lake was ice cold as she swam, knowing it to be a quiet method of entering the estate without drawing attention. However, the feeling of the dirty pond water in her beautiful hair just made her want to ditch the mission altogether and have a bath. Why was she doing this again?

She had plenty of money to call her own, even an estate in the wilderness by a lake. She had too many jewels to count and an array of suitors who just tripped over themselves and all their worth whenever she donned the gold amulet as a symbol of Mara.

But as she held her breath, passing slowly under the bridge, nearing what she hoped might be the sewers, she quickly remembered.

Her heart was pounding against her chest, attempting to break out of her body as she heard voices of the Mercenaries, their gruff voices and their slurred ratway nord accents. She heard she chinking of metal against metal, the very distinct sound an elven dagger makes when hitting iron or steel.

She hunted the treasures of others, avoided sight and picked locks with a mastery uncommon for very simple dangerous reasons. It gave her the kick of her life.

"I reckon I could take down one of them big dragons!" One mercenary boasted, "My cousin, Fulgar, he fought one the other day, took it down with one swing! And Fulgar is nothin' but a milk drinking tavern wench compared to me!"

"I think Fulgar might be a milk drinking tavern wench, but he sure knows how to tell a good bedtime story" His mercenary companion replied, his voice had more depth, his accent was typical rundown nord but his words were fitted into proper sentences without stopping between to spit. This foe had a higher education, either he fell through his proper life and turned to the violent trade, or he studying a school of magic.

The red haired thief noted mentally to beware of the man when she was lighting the hives, as he would undoubtedly cause issues when provoked.

She stalked the waters and slipped into the sewers that ran under Goldenglow and stalked the shadows, finding the sewers to be filled with no other creatures but the occasional skeever.

She when she opened the hatch to exit the sewers she slipped inside the house, remaining unseen.

Immediately she heard voices, but at the time it was unimportant, she was looking around the first few rooms.

She didn't bother to crouch down, nobody was in the room, her ears were well trained and when she heard someone step close to the room she was investigating she could slip to the shadows quite fluidly.

The room was well lit, foreign furs donned the floorboards and the table was filled with hot delicious untouched meals. The bookshelves had tomes and volumes in collective order, showing fascination in the particular era of the oblivion crisis.

The one book that was different on the shelves was a particular tome of magic, the cover illustrated the use of restoration but the contents were found to be page less, a small chest in the shape of a spell tome.

The contents of the chest were 5 sizable diamonds and a bag of coin, it felt heavy in her hands as she weighed it in her fingers, she estimated approximately 100 septims in the purse.

She placed the contents back into their location and back on the shelf, noting the dust pile over all the other books but the faint scratches but otherwise pristine wood that held the fake tome. It was pulled out often.

The thief continued, fingers against the dwarven dagger held to her waist and her ears listening for any movement.

"Hold it 'ight there girlie" She felt the sharp edge of a sword against her spine and the flame haired girl felt her heart flutter under her skin in a wonderful flutter of intoxicating adrenaline. "Ya know, hair like that is only seen on atronachs 'n' the like, reckon the other boys oughta like you, be like the whore from Oblivion…"

And oh the sharpness of that blade was intoxicating, he was slitting the fabric of her torso, revealing the fairest skin and a trickle of blood where the blade had caressed her skin. She knew the texture of the blade well, gritty and brittle yet sharp as anything and thick. Almost undoubtedly orcish.

"Take me to your leader" She purred, feeling the rush of warmth overwhelming her.

**Sorry but I couldn't help throw in that reference as I was writing it, don't forget to leave a review, I'll need atleast 3 of them before I upload another chapter, hope this one won't leave you all hanging too long. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter; this chapter is also displayed in our thief's POV and has quite a taste of action.**

**Shoutouts:  
**

**Guest: COOKIES for being the first reviewer! Yep, that's my own personal twist to the story that you guessed correctly, I really do like to screw with the main story.  
**

**BlackDragon12317: Certainly an idea I might take into consideration, we'll see how we go.  
**

**holland lop: Well done! I never had the patience to do all those boring little quests... steal the golden urn... ahh shoot me! Thanks for your review, I'm glad you think so!  
**

**Baby Fawn: I really couldn't think of any other reply! How shameful... Hope you like this chapter!  
**

**Chapter 4: The escape**

The mercenaries were smelly, the stench of goat roast and garlic was filling the kitchen but body odor from the rough men was quite overpowering.

They hadn't bothered binding her, finding her to be quite accommodating to their demands. She walked when they said walk, she jumped when they said jump.

The men were quite pleased when her captor of sorts presented her, they had been working a long night and it was well and truly the period of time when someone might argue whether or not it was true morning or night for the sun had not risen but it was less than a few hours away.

And the girl had shape; she was not tiny like most from Cyrodiil. Her bones had delicious meat adding emphasis to her figure, her breasts not overly large or small, but slightly less than average, although she exaggerated their size in her own mind, finding them to be quite attractive in her own eye more than their true aesthetics.

Her hair, shining more of a fiery orange in this lighting, fell to her mid back in curls of varying sizes after her hair had been torn from its binding in an attempt to drag the girl.

Her facial features were delicate, pretty even, but average. On this evening she wore no make-up, making her eyes seem plainer than ever and her lips seemingly smaller than usual without their usual vivid color.

"Look at this drink of fine wine!" A Breton man stood forward, he wore leather pants, straps wrapped over his naked shoulders for unobvious reasons and a heavy iron axe strapped to his frame.

"I say we take her in turns!" Another man grinned, "I'd rather not show all the boys more of my skin than I would in battle."

"Now, Now…" Smiled her captor, whom she had mentally began to affectionately refer to as Scruffy. "Finders Keepers, tonight she's mine!"

She heard the arguing, understanding quite completely that it was her virtue that they quested. She wasn't entirely sure if they would receive it either, some of the men spoke well whilst others spoke with the worst vocabulary she had heard in at least the past 2 years and one or two was even mute.

Such an array of culture and intelligence, she had not yet hatched a plan for escape.

But it was incredibly exciting.

She soon noted that her body language had indicated trust, and the natural instinct of the men was to take advantage of that vulnerability with a small sense of their own, she was unbound, lightly watched, the only form of security they had taken was to remove her weapons.

But they didn't take her lock picks.

She was a dagger wielder, she found the weapons easy to conceal, light, east enough to maintain. But most would not note how easy it was to pick up an item of undeniable innocence and use it to cause large amounts of pain and bleeding.

She was swift, drawing 3 lock picks and pounced, pushing her weight from her knees into the air, she kicked the closest man to the head, when she landed, her weight pressed completely against his ear, hearing a light crunch.

Her next victim received one of the three lock picks in the ear, as she whipped past, when she removed it he fell to the ground with a spray of blood emerging from the irreparable damage the thin piece of iron caused.

The other men had started toward her now, yelling loudly as is the battle custom, and lunging with their weapons. She was only a small creature, although not the smallest, these were men and easily overpowering.

So she began to run around the room in circles.

To an outsider, she would have looked like a lunatic, and that is exactly how she seemed to the men, they laughed and mocked, calling her more cowardice than skeever.

Then she jumped onto the table near one of the edges of the room and lunged to the chandelier, her weight being too heavy for the decorative lighting tool, simply crashed, and crushing the men below.

They groaned as she stole a blade from one of their hips and brandished it against the few left.

Blood sprayed the walls.

Corpses decorating the floor, and the breathing men simply groaned against the hard wood.

"Thank you, boys, for showing me your skin!" She grinned, "But I think I'll keep my pants on."

And she stepped from the room, admiring the dagger that she had downgraded to but had a lack of motivation to search for her original amongst the bodies of the men.

She then tucked the other two lock picks away.

Not far away, Aringoth sat in his room behind a locked door, hearing the commotion and knowing that the person responsible was on their way.

And he held his keychain against his throat and cursed the agent who put him into this situation. He knew that the blackmail from Maven he received was a bother, but he was used to it, he had grown reasonably comfortable with their arrangement.

But he was so easily convinced otherwise.

**Don't forget to leave a review! will need AT LEAST 3 before you get another update, don't mind criticism or anything, it all helps!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter could have turned out better, but I just couldn't think of what to write! Damn you writer's block!**

**Shoutouts:**

**guest #1: yeah I really enjoyed writing that part, when I came up with the idea I pretty much bolted to my computer.**

**I'mWelsh: I'm glad you do**

**guest#2: sorry to disappoint you but you don't find out this chapter...**

** Chapter 5: Words among thieves**

Brynjolf began was on the shores of the lake looking over toward Goldenglow, ready to take Vex's place in the mission for the guild when he saw the columns of smoke begin to pile high to the clouds.

3 flaming arrows were fired, their bright light could be seen from where he stood and each hit their target although their archer showed little skill in their hits.

And through the skittering of worried mercenaries he saw the water splash as a slim shadow entered the waters.

Brynjolf didn't even have to get wet, didn't have to do a thing.

But thief in the water who came towards him at a steady pace was a mystery.

He stepped towards the water and recognized her face.

"Ahh we meet again…" She flashed him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"So it seems, I believe I owe you a bit more coin than I thought I did." Brynjolf grinned shrugging towards the smoke.

"Oh that? I have a certain contact who lets me know when there is work to be done" She smirked, "Makes awfully good mead"

He was shocked at her implication, did Maven really hire her to complete the mission? How did Maven even find out of their failure? Vex only returned to the guild from her attempt a mere 7 hours ago… Did news travel that fast?

"I see the worry in your eyes" She giggled girlishly "You might want to untangle your unmentionables, I have no quarrel with your guild, I even have a gift for you." She reached into a pocket strapped to her leg and pulled out an envelope of sealed waterproof leather and emptied it, revealing a letter. "Mr Frey might be interested in this."

He eyed her cautiously, "Why not join us lass? You obviously have the skill for it…"

She smiled once more, "You're still located in the ratways? Seems a bit dark and dirty, maybe I'll join you for a drink sometime."

And she stood up beginning to walk towards Riften, her rucksack swung over her shoulder and her thin wet armor sticking to her skin.

"Lass, what should I call you?"

She turned then, stepping back towards him and looking him in the eye, "How's 'the grey fox' sound?"

He laughed then, "Don't overestimate your abilities lass, be serious now"

Her eyes looked hurt for a moment and she mockingly held her long fingers to her chest, "You wound me, Brynjolf"

For some reason, he wasn't overly surprised she already knew his name, but she just giggled and continued to walk away.

"You're too cruel to me, lass, leaving me alone in the night where the foul hearted might come for me!"

"An arm like that can handle itself, stay attached to it and you might survive!" She snickered, disappearing through the night.

And he chuckled as he clutched the paper she had handed him, walking in the same direction she had stranded him in.

And he thought of the curious girl with the red hair and the manic smile, and wondered if she would show up in the Flagon for a drink of victory.

And he wondered how he could describe such a woman without a name to start with.

He walked through the cold night past the guards who stood by the gate, he pulled his hood back as he strolled through the night town of Riften, a scene he didn't admire too often. The silver light touched the stone walls of the buildings and the water's reflection dwindled on the walls from the sewers.

The clouds were as full as the moon that hid behind them and the few in the streets were too busy with their hands in the air to fully admire the beauty of the shadowy night.

The visitors of Riften were too busy stuffing cotton up their noses to block the smell than to look up and see the stars.

He headed towards the graveyard to open the way to the Cistern, glancing over empty yard to make sure before entering.

He entered the secret place hidden in plain sight and wandered the Cistern, only to find Mercer had retired for the night. He placed the letter on Mercer's desk, not even bothering to look at it.

Yawning, he soon realized how long his night had been.

**I know it's a fairly boring chapter compared to the last few, but you need a few boring chapters every now and then or the story ends too quickly! Hope you liked it anyway, please leave me a review, will need at least 3 of them for an update!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again! This chapter turned out ok, could have been better, could have been worse.**

**Shoutouts:  
**

**DarkAngel1345: That's perfectly true! And even if there are no secret meanings, it shows character!  
**

**eep246: Maybe I'll finish one day, I just ran out of ideas...  
**

**Guest: I'm glad you liked it! not my favorite chapter but it was necessary.  
**

**Chapter 6: Too much mail**

The next morning, the guild was in an uproar, but then again, it usually was these days.

Something was always wrong, it gave Brynjolf a headache. Seemed there was nothing they could do to make things go right for a change.

Mercer was practically on fire the way he ran around screaming at people, almost jumping off the walls with frustration. He was waving the letter that his second in command had left for him on the Guild's desk like it was a flag for his anger, which, if you really thought about it, it kind of was.

"How could we not have seen this one coming!" Mercer threw the words at the Nord who just leaned against the Cistern walls, "I mean it was RIGHT there in our faces! Why else would Aringoth have the balls to betray Maven and the guild?"

And he spoke in circled for a while; Brynjolf had been standing there listening to him drabble for quite some time now and Mercer had not actually mentioned what was in the letter.

"We let this slip RIGHT under our noses and you know why? We're all TOO caught up in doing these tiny little jobs, Sapphire is always God-knows where, Delvin just likes to sit back with his mead and pawn the big jobs off to every small man the guild has and Vex is out of action now! Brynjolf you fix this!" Mercer stepped dangerously closer with his long fingers in the Nords face, "You better fucking fix this Bryn or it's the end of the guild, FUCK"

Once again, Brynjolf had no idea what Mercer was actually talking about.

Was it the girl? Brynjolf thought for a moment, it was doubtful; he hadn't even had a second to even tell Mercer about her, not that the Breton would even care. Mercer had gotten high strung; he didn't want to waste another drop of resources in recruiting, training only to find the members dead or in jail which is fairly reasonable, but with Vex out of work times like these were they needed more recruits.

"Oy Bryn, what's alla' that fuss about then?" Delvin whistled at him with a nod.

"I'm not too sure, but I would wager it had something to do with a certain present a little bird left me."

Mallory just cackled and walked away, assuming it was part of a joke he was supposed to understand, in a way, Brynjolf was disappointed. If anyone knew her, it would be Delvin, the man had contacts everywhere. He knew Maven knew about her, but Maven isn't exactly someone you just walk up to and ask for the name of one of their distinctive thieves.

Bryn sighed and headed over to the Guild's desk and picked up the letter that Mercer had tossed in his fit before heading to the Flagon.

And when he unfolded the crisp paper and read the cursive writing, he immediately understood the Guild master's frustration, he wasn't as tempted to throw himself into the Cistern waters and run around like a hurricane as the guild master was, say all you want about red heads, Brynjolf was an exception to the rule of hot headed gingers.

The letter stated the sale of Goldenglow, with one of the terms of to cut off any affiliation with the Guild.

This person was out to cause trouble.

They had signed the top of the page with a strange symbol, which may be something to go on, but the name Gulum-Ei which appeared on the page as witness to the Bill of Sale would be something a little more helpful.

And Brynjolf was so tired of playing these games as he folded the page and left it on the desk.

But as he walked away back to the Flagon he wondered…. Why did the girl have the letter? Was she a part of this or did she simply pull it from the safe of Goldenglow before she left?

He entered the Flagon in hopes to drown sorrows in mead, as is the custom, when he noticed a young Nord man standing at the front of the Flagon with shivers down his spine like he had seen a ghost. He must have made it past the bandits that flooded the Ratways.

"I h-h-have a let-t-t-ter for a Bryn…..Golf?" He stuttered, Bryn chuckled as he heard the mispronunciation. Turns out, it doesn't matter how easy a name looks or how common it is, people will always find a way to get it wrong.

Brynjolf stepped forward and introduced himself to the young courier who was shaking out of his thin leather boots.

"Never been to the Ratways, lad?" He chuckled, "I can tell it's not your scene already." He extended a hand for the letter.

The courier didn't even reply, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve whilst handing over the letter.

To be truthful, Brynjolf was already over getting mail.

"Here's a coin for yer trouble, lad." He tossed a Septim at the boy, only to see it bounce off his chest to his feet, "I would recommend making deliveries to Sapphire in future, she sticks around upstairs more than the rest of us."

The courier nodded before sprinting away as if he had started to grow a second head.

He walked back to the table and sat by Delvin, looking over at the bar he saw Mercer humming into a Tankard, Vekel had probably convinced him to have a mead and probably decided to spice it up with something a little more powerful in hopes to make the man merrier. Yet even when he was drunk, the man had an aura of unapproachable menace.

Bryn turned back to his tankard and stared at the envelope he had received, it was plain paper with his name written in a fanciful cursive he had not seen before in Skyrim.

When he opened the letter, a smile came to his face when down the bottom it was signed by 'the grey fox'.

**That's right! Take that minor cliffhanger to THE FACE! Don't forget to leave a review! Need at least 3 for the next update...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello again, hope you're enjoying my story so far**

**Guest: I might... never get too much time for writing however so nowadays I can only do these short little takes... Cookies for being first!**

**DarkAngel1345: Yep. I'm a true jest.**

**Anon: nawwww flattery goes a long way with me! Cookies for you!**

**Chapter 7: An agreement**

Maven waited on the second floor of the Bee and the Barb, her fingernails cleaner than the tables that the lizard insisted on scrubbing constantly but it didn't stop her from picking the nonexistent dirt from underneath them, probably made her feel regal.

Brynjolf entered the tavern feeling a little nervous admittedly, when he received the letter he was half convinced that it was a joke, maybe a scam, his little fox wasn't beyond that.

She stood waiting for him with her armor ready, daggers strapped to each arm and each leg and her unruly red hair messily tied behind her head in an attempt to keep it off her face, but a few stray curls rebelled, hanging in a frame.

"Good, you got my letter!" She grinned, showing her teeth, "Maven's upstairs, bit of an impatient character, isn't she?"

Brynjolf put his arms to his chest and looked at her, "What's this about lass? You work alone, why would you call me out to help?"

Her black eyes sparkled cheekily "Spoilers"

And she sprung upstairs, expecting him to follow; he took his steps slowly, not wanting to rush, trying to take in what was truly happening.

In the Flagon, Mercer eyed him until he left, his letter being held in his hand in case one of the thieves got curious.

He didn't read it twice, in case one of the crew looked over his shoulder but he was tempted to as it burned holes in his hand in temptation.

The plain parchment had fancy handwriting, written in the common tongue but the flairs were almost foreign, the calligraphy was dainty indeed.

'_My dearest Brynjolf, _

_I'm sure by now you've discovered a certain stink to the bill of sale I delivered to you, I'm sure you've become worried on the state your client will be in. She has entrusted me on a mission and I might need an extra few fingers. We wait at noon at the Barb tomorrow, don't be late._

_The best with the best?_

–_The grey fox'_

And he was up all night wondering.

Maven didn't go through the guild, and this girl was his only hope of getting their most impressionable contact back in their favor, it'll be ridiculous for him to turn down her offer. His fox knew she had him wrapped around her finger; he would do anything she wanted him to just to split her cut, just to get her working in their trademark leathers.

And he was perfectly happy to go along with her plan if it meant his guild might end in a better position.

And standing here in the Barb was admitted defeat, he felt unwanted glares from the set of lizards running the bar, unhappy about being forced to pay what they owed.

"Ah, Brynjolf, I hope your recent works don't repeat themselves in the future." Maven pointed out when he reached her table where the fox sat with her, a flagon of spiced wine in her fingers.

"I think you'll find that Brynjolf represents his guild far better than the guild represents itself, I've found him to be quite a respectable thief and will make for a remarkable companion." Fox told her.

"Yet not so respectable that he might speak for himself." Maven remarked, pulling her hands away from herself to inspect them rather than looking up at the nord.

"I think you'll find I can handle whatever job you throw my way." Brynjolf said, "Goldenglow was estimated to be an easy target, Vex wasn't as equipped for the amount of Mercenaries that were present."

"I'm not a fan of pointless excuses, just get the job done and get it done right." Maven yawned.

"Yes well, that won't be a problem, back to business then." Fox added, trying to bend the situation back into her favor.

"Yes, I've recently been informed of the sale of Goldenglow." Maven turned to Brynjolf, "I'm sure I don't need to lecture you on your responsibilities of keeping Aringoth in line, but with Aringoth taken care of that is no longer the issue."

Taken care of? Brynjolf looked at the red headed thief and tried to picture her with one of her sharp daggers plunged into the elf's throat.

"But I have one competitor near Whiterun that has been a thorn in my side for years, with Goldenglow being a bit battered Honningbrew is bound to jump on the occasion. I think it's about time to remove the thorn and burn the weed. I have a contact waiting in Whiterun who has designed a flawless plan that will destroy Honningbrew and will get it prepared to become the brewery for Black Briar Meadery for that particular nook in Skyrim." Maven finished, she looked at Brynjolf.

"Don't worry, I've got the details written down already, we'll head off first light tomorrow, spend today preparing for the journey." His newest companion informed him.

"And Brynjolf?" Maven gave half a mocking grin, "I trust you won't screw up this time."

"I won't, your trust is in good faith." Brynjolf smiled, "You won't mind speaking to be outside?" He faced the young Imperial now who gave him a smile and a nod.

"We'll speak soon, Maven" She smiled at her contact who nodded her away.

Brynjolf took her wrist and walked her outside the tavern, something that the girl seemed to find mildly uncomfortable.

"You wish to speak to me?" She grinned mischievously.

"Whiterun is not exactly a close trip, lass and tomorrow is not exactly much time away, what do you expect for me to tell my faction?" Brynjolf crossed his large arms. "You can't just spring on people and expect them to follow!"

She smiled, "Well you came on your own accord, I offered you an invitation to join my party and you accepted. As the founder of the party, I think you'll find tomorrow to be an acceptable time to leave. Your faction is in a mess at the moment I imagine?" She didn't even wait for a response. "Tell your main man that you're attempting to earn Maven's favor by doing a few cheap jobs for her. You'll be busy with me for some time, we're going to fix these problems of yours."

Brynjolf then realized that there was more to her story than she was explaining, there was no way she would put so much effort into returning Maven's faith in the guild for no higher purpose.

"Why help us, lass? I've done you no favors."

She then gave him his favorite cheeky grin, "Spoilers."

**Please don't forget to leave a review, I'll need at least 3 of them to post the next update so hopefully that won't be too long! See you in Chapter 8!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again!**

**DarkAngel1345: Cookies for being first! Yeah a little bit; would you like a jelly baby?**

**Anon: Well here it is; hope you enjoy it**

**Vitalani: Well I do write complicated sometimes but with shorter chapters and a more action inspired story, I find simple being easier to understand.**

**Hope you all enjoy this one!**

Chapter 8: The first step to a larger journey

Mercer took his news grudgingly, but couldn't deny that Maven's favor was pretty much the only foot the guild could stand on and would tumble quite quickly with it lost.

Brynjolf didn't mention her. Not that he would know what to say, how do you even start describing someone nameless? He'd be taken for a fool.

Brynjolf was a bit of a fool however.

The fox knew his limits were not close, she knew to keep pushing. He knew his limits were far off, whatever he could do for the guild he would do.

So he sat in the graveyard just before dawn. The entrance closed behind him and he sat over the grave. He curiously wondered for a quick moment who slept in the coffin, but he dismissed the thought quickly, believing it to be empty and existing for the guild's uses only.

He looked over his inventory; his bag was quite full of necessary items, health potions, dried meat and bread, water, and a large number of lock picks.

He seemed prepared enough, unsure of the length of his journey. The walk to Whiterun was approximately 3 days or so but who knows what trouble they'd find themselves, and Brynjolf had no idea what sort of trouble this girl would attract.

He looked over the buildings and watched the peachy skies lighten, deciding it was about time to start walking over to the gate.

And the way he walked through Riften, his wonderful beautiful town that smelled of water and fish, feeling the muggy heat from the forge as he passed the main square and hearing the lute from the tavern which curiously played in the early hours of the morning; you'd think he would never see Riften again.

And at the end of his short walk stood an adventurer, she donned armor to suit, showing less skin than she usually did and had an actual thickness to the fabric. An array of arrows strapped to her back raging from iron to elven and a bow. Her multiple daggers were still strapped to all her arms and legs and her red curls were tied in a messy plait behind her head.

The silver necklace of the bird hanged between her breasts.

"Good, you've arrived"

"I nearly didn't, lass, do I at least get to know your name since I'll be watching your back?"

"Spoilers!" She grinned toothily, making him all the more agitated.

They began to walk through the gate, Brynjolf watched the way she walked as she stepped a few steps in front of him. It was like a happy dance, she had light feet that skipped instead of running, her hips swayed gracefully and strands of flaming hair that were free blew in the wind softly.

But her smile was cold, never truly reaching her eyes unless she was being mischievous, and Brynjolf knew that smile was cheeky but he wanted to see her smile properly.

He wondered what it would take to make a woman like that properly happy.

He always found intelligent women effort, they liked the large romantic gestures that showed how far into their souls you could see, they liked to be romanced rather than found on a drunken night and brought back to the bedroom.

But even so, this girl had that bright spark of intelligence to her eye, she still seemed completely different to the others.

"Brynjolf, what were you trying to pull with Maven yesterday?" She asked, attempting to make conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Excuses. Surely after having her as an important contact you would have figured out that she doesn't like excuses, no matter how valid." She tutted, "You'll just have to think harder next time, she likes every job done right or there won't be a next time. You sure are lucky to have me…"

But why did he have her.

"Have you heard the rumors?" She continued, "they say there's a dragon born running around. Absolute rubbish if you ask me."

Brynjolf's brow furrowed, "not a fan of legend, lass?"

"I like legend, they make good reads when I can't sleep" She giggled, "but the idea of someone swallowing the souls of dragons like a walking-talking soul gem is just a little far-fetched."

"I'll admit I've heard one or two legends in my time that seemed a little too far out there, but the dragon born legend seems to be set in stone in all the Nordic legends about the end of the dragon era, and with the dragons popping in and out of the sky like rain, it's not like you can deny their existence."

She didn't look at him when he spoke about the dragons, her the fringe of her hair had fallen out of its style and was hanging by her eyes as she walked, "I guess not." She said in a quiet voice.

And Brynjolf thought for a moment that he may have struck a nerve but unsure on how he managed to.

Women…

**3 reviews for the next update! Hopefully that won't take as long as it did for the last one!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello Again, here's the promised update;**

**Shoutouts: **

**Vitalani: I'm glad you liked it! here's the next one.**

**Guest: you call it garbage, yet you read the entire thing... I enjoy writing and I only update if people are actually reading it. I don't write if I don't want to. Flame to people who'll take it to heart.**

**DarkAngel1345: Yeah too many dragonborns (or any female character really) are polite, well mannered and slightly dumb. And they supposedly kill things, defeat Alduin and get their hands nice and dirty. Although this isn't how I imagine the dragonborn completely, this is how I imagine the dragonborn of the thieves guild to be.**

Chapter 9: Of course I can hunt

They had set up camp not long after the sun had settled. They had hoped to had found shelter but discovered they were too aspirational for such novelties.

They only had to fight 2 bears to stay out of the rain.

Not that hard, no, not hard at all.

Brynjolf had found the fox to be quite silent for most of their walk, his attempts of conversation were quite futile, and however he found that she reacted quite easily to any form of cheek.

Were he to sneak up on her and trip her by the foot, she would turn like a snake and relax into hysterics.

And he found it one of the few ways to entertain himself.

But as they rolled out their sleeping bags, he felt his heart race slightly as she placed hers so neatly close to his own, and he kicked himself mentally for getting ever so mildly excited over such trivial things as if he was in his adolescence.

"You want to catch dinner, or should I?" She asked, drawing her bow. Brynjolf had to only eye the way she held the damned thing and mentally compare it to Niruin to know how wrong she was doing it, but he felt he needed some entertainment. If she took more than a few hours he would probably just capture his own meal, he'd probably mutilate it less.

"You go for it lass, I'll start the fire." He smiled up her with a cheeky glint in his eyes and waited for his plan to unfold.

She scampered off into the woodland, kicking fauna at her boots with the beautiful glass bow drawn, the last few glints of evening light flashing the intricate materials.

And he knew this would be good.

She didn't hunt too far away, must have been fairly hungry too, he heard the frustration as every shot she fired missed.

"Breathe in…. Release with exhale…" She chanted softly to herself as she attempted to strike a deer.

But she was ambitious with her strikes, aiming for their head, taking them on far away, she held the weapon as if it were ready to explode any minute and her releases were shaky.

He couldn't help but abandon his flames to go watch hers rage.

By now, her hair was pretty much loose, her face was distorted into ugly shapes of agitation and her arms were covered in dirt.

She fired another shot at an animal before deciding to move her location, knowing the near animals were all frightened by now.

"Maybe we should swap tasks" Brynjolf stepped from his bushy hiding place with his arms crossed and a smile on his rugged face.

She looked at him with half annoyance and half amusement, "I can hunt just fine."

The nord laughed, "I must have been watching the wrong fox then."

"I was putting a show on, I knew you were watching me."

"Prove it, hunt better now."

"I will."

And she grabbed her bow and began to strut away.

Brynjolf knew she would take her sweet time, deciding to go back and set the fire ready to go.

He set the flames a few meters away from their bedrolls, forming a pyramid of dry wood that he found and made a nest of kindling underneath. Light wood at the bottom, heavy wood at the top and a bit of medium to go in the middle.

He pulled the flint from his rucksack and began to hack the stones together, not flinching at the sparks every time he crashed the stones against each other.

As the sparks hit the kindling, his fox stepped to their camp, dragging a small deer behind her.

The deer had an arrow in its throat, penetrating the neck through to the other side. The wound itself was wide and gaping.

She obviously slit the creatures throat and placed an arrow in there, a fool would not have noticed, but Brynjolf was a nord and every nord who was not raised by a nanny knew what an arrow wound looked like.

But he knew she was mildly sensitive from whatever made her sensitive earlier in their journey and made no comment of her authenticity.

"Told you I can hunt! Right in the throat, probably didn't even feel a thing!" She smiled, hands behind her back, probably covering blood stains.

"Seems I doubted you unrightfully, lass, maybe you can hunt for us now on?" Brynjolf smiled.

"Ah, but that wouldn't be fair. A gentleman takes turns with his lady" She put a finger in the air to wiggle in his direction with a smile.

"Men in my trade are rarely called gentlemen, lass." He flashed a smile as he carved into the deer.

He was surprised when she didn't turn away once as he pulled apart her efforts. The guts or blood didn't make her queasy like most cyrodiilic women; in fact she almost seemed used to it.

The meal was good, cooked perhaps a little bit raw for his tastes but overall he felt full.

And they crawled into their bedrolls and looked up at the stars.

During the night, he could swear she had moved closer, he could smell her hair and skin and feel her hot breath in the night.

And when he did open his eyes to find her intimidatingly close, he found her sleeping form intoxicating, peaceful.

She was completely different to her waking form.

He was tempted to plant something on her lips, something she wouldn't even notice him leaving there, a little secret for him to smile at when he felt lonely.

But it is frowned upon to kiss a sleeping woman, especially when you don't even know her name.

The red of her hair, glittered silvery gold in the moonlight making her so much more tempting; his little fox was so beautiful.

**Yeah it did go a bit fluffy there, DON'T FRET, this story isn't a fluffy one, Bryn just has a bit of a crush... **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hope you weren't hanging on for too long for this chapter… **

**DarkAngel1345: Cookies for being first! Well I have been said to make too many 'Sues' before, so I wrote down a character and everything about her in notepad and wrote pros and cons and I ended up with the fox!**

**Vitalani: I try to make character flaws go beyond personality, you can't be good at everything just because you have a temper.**

**Guest: Spoilers! I can't tell you about her necklace just yet but I'm glad you noticed it! I do watch Doctor Who! A LOT, I kind of like easter eggs in everything I do, I like stealing quotes and I LOVE it when people notice! Yeah I guess some might say it was a bit stupid because I should come up with those things myself but it makes me smile, and I come up with enough, I can make a reference if I want to. **

**Without further ado,**

**Chapter 10:Disappointment**

The morning came much too soon, Brynjolf was used to waking up being unsure of the time, the guild's members slept at different hours of the day and night and were quite the quiet bunch. The lighting was dim and the air was warm most of the time.

But laying in the opening of a short cliff side, the sun peeked through the autumn leaves of the countryside with an intense brightness, only magnified by the bright blue sky patterned with silver white clouds.

And the gray fox as he had become accustomed to calling her (only in his mind) slept quite soundly still even with the sun glaring at her white form.

He could tell the outdoor life was not unfamiliar to her, but her skin was so completely white, with the sun so blinding it reflected off her skin in similar ways, making her glow in the orange white light.

Brynjolf crept, careful not to wake her, around her sleeping form to the set of bags near the embers of last night's fire. He poked her twice to see if she would wake before beginning to go through her bag.

It wasn't his usual way, he'd admit. But Brynjolf simply could not stand getting lied to, could not stand being underhanded. The mystery of this flame haired woman was as dangerous as an angry cat inside his shirt, it _tore _at his chest and bit into his stomach. He had to know something about her, anything would do.

Her things were simple, she carried around a number of lockpicks, leather armor, two dresses of opposite quality; one that would be worn in the high courts of the imperial city and another that may have belonged to a lower class tavern wench. She had one more item of clothing (just as he started to question how many clothes she owned he noticed this beauty of a thing that made him almost ashamed of his own leathers. It was as black as night but had undertones of greens and blues in the morning light, had many pockets sewn into the arms, legs and chest. The material would be useless in a fight but unarguably the best when sticking to the shadows, thin and light.

He recognized it from only three nights ago, it seemed so much different when it was dry.

Her other items seemed fairly meaningless, a few potions, one or two trinkets, a spare dagger, and a letter from Maven detailing the mission.

He entertained the idea that it might include her name in the addressing but it didn't address her at all.

Brynjolf began to wonder if she even had a name.

He wondered if even if she did, if anyone knew it at all.

He turned to look at her to find her awake behind him with her hands on her hips, a thin dark eyebrow raised and a smirk.

"My bag is the dark brown one, remember? Unless you wanted to borrow one of my dresses, by all means! But don't get any of them dirty"

And Brynjolf knew she had something to hide but was confident with its safety. How could she be so amused by the idea of him shuffling through her things? Any woman of Tamriel would remove a man's fingers and attempt to castrate him if he so much as looked at her things in a curious manner.

The idea of her winning this round frustrated and nauseated him.

For breakfast they ate the last of the dinner the night beforehand, it wasn't fresh but when taken with bread the quality is less noticeable.

The walk to Ivarstead was a few hours away and Brynjolf was not in the heaviest of moods, despite not finding what he was looking for in her bag.

"Lass, tell me something about you? If I am not to know your name perhaps I can learn more of your character." Brynjolf said not long into their journey.

She gave him a cheeky grin and asked, "what would you like to know?"

"Where do you come from?"

She then gave him a half look of disbelief and amusement. "You couldn't figure that out yourself?"

"Well you're an Imperial, your accent is definitely Cyrodillic, but I can barely tell your birth, you deliver mixed signals"

She gave him an amused smile, "I come from a high birth, when I became bored of my surroundings I changed them. I continue to do so every day of my life."

Brynjolf's brow furrowed. What did she mean? It sounded so simple as she said it but he knew there was more. What sort of high birth did she hail from; A simple rich family? Was she destined to become a countess? Brynjolf attempted to stop thinking of her family when he realized he was exaggerating.

But he wondered on the terms she left home, was she a runaway? She was young, one of the younger thieves he had met, definitely the youngest thief he had met with the skill she possessed.

"Stop thinking so hard, Bryn, your eyebrows might join permanently."

"I must know, lass, your mystery is such a curiosity to me"

"Well, you might want to learn to accept disappointment."

**THERE YOU GO! Hopefully the next update won't be too far away! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello again, here's the next chapter for you all! Hope you enjoy**

**Shoutouts:**

**DarkAngel1345: COOKIES for being first! Yeah I imagine him to be quite nosy.**

**PeltryaTheMage: I never really write it to the letter, you may as well just look it up in the guide! I go so far off the original story it could almost be called original sometimes.**

**Vitalani: Well you won't find out anything important JUST yet**

**Guest: Yeah, if you don't like it you don't have to read it I always say. People have been known to have a problem with my review system, and well they don't NEED to leave a review! References come under the same boat, don't like the author's methods, don't read their work! I'm glad you agree on that!**

**So this chapter is fairly unimportant and was written for fun mostly, for those not really interested in drunken experiences you can skip it.**

**Chapter 11: To dance with the fairies and demons**

The inn was a fine place, although they had no need to stop in their journey so early for a rest, the fox felt the desire to feel her pulse race a little faster, and not many drinks can provide the pace she liked to withstand.

Her aid in her quest of adrenaline was one of the like he had never seen before. She claimed to have created it herself, after distilling powerful herbs, some of which he believed to be used in types of poisons, she mixed moon sugar to the solution and brought it to boil. When the solution cooled she stored it in tight containers with juniper berries sitting in the drink.

The amount she made to a bottle was minute, when Brynjolf saw the small container he almost laughed, one little berry in a bottle almost three times the size filled with a cloudy white blue fluid.

She took a silver dagger; runes inscribed to the side signaling the use of enchantments, and ran it along the lip of the bottle.

When the blue flames cooled, she took a swig of the now green drink.

And the berry slid between her teeth, to his shock she pressed those to his.

The kiss was cold and bitter, it was sweet and overbearingly spicy. The berries were juicy and the blood of the fruit was toxic, it leaked down his throat painfully, burning all in its path.

He thought for a moment that the fire had never settled and burned still.

But, unlike most drinks, he walked with no swagger; his mind felt sharp and crisp, working at hundreds of miles per hour, more powerful than any dwarvern machine.

He felt hyperactive and clear, he could have stolen the inn itself whilst his mind worked this hard. He could be the best damned thief Skyrim had ever met.

But his drugged mind didn't see it that way, he found himself searching for needs that were as worthy of any man.

The tavern wench who claimed to be a travelling bard was a novelty he admired that night, her eyes were a strange golden brown, with flecks of green. They reminded him of mead dressed in a crystal glass by the firelight.

Her skin was sunkissed, browned as dry leaves and her hair dark. She was a beauty of the night.

And when she kissed, he felt the sharpness of her teeth and the whip of her tongue, although her voice was warmed honey, when it was sealed with his lips it became as harsh as the toxic berry his fox delivered with her lips.

The night flashed by in strange memories that he hadn't felt before, flashes of pleasure and pain and confusion.

A woman whiter than the sun on a wintry day laying kisses on his shoulders with her tongue.

The mead eyed bard humming down his body with a vibrating voice.

Red hair dancing in the moonlit field and laughter claims of Dibella incarnate, being her form.

Leathery wings flying around the mountains with flames that told stories of a thousand years.

Sanguine even appeared in his dreams with a trick on his lips and wickedness daunting in his eyes.

The green fairies danced around his bed.

And then they were gone.

And then he was gone.

Brynjolf felt the tickle on his skin vanish as he opened his eyes finding himself in his inn room, his neck stung deeply and his clothes were thrown all over the room.

Gathering his mind he tried placing together the night, reminding himself never to eat one of those berries again, but the night remained in shattered pieces.

It was like trying to arrange the shards of a broken window smashed to smithereens; or trying to repair a woman after she had been brutalized by a psychopath.

He put his clothes on carefully, looking back and seeing the lovely bard from the nights previous. Her devilish lips showed white teeth a little sharper than usual and he tried to brush off the possibilities behind his shoulder injury.

And the fox waited at the bar with a flagon of water in her fingers and her black eyes looking dazed.

"Sleep well, Bryn?" She murmured holding her forehead with one hand.

Brynjolf never bothered to even display acknowledgement of her question and sat beside her.

"Lass, what was that drink?" Brynjolf said quietly with his eyes aching.

"Mmmm? Oh a bit of this and a bit of that! I call it absence." She smiled lightly. "Gonna be a big thing."

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow, laid his head in his arms, cradled it on the bar bench and muttered inaudibly.

Absence, she says.

Brynjolf made a mental note to never ingest something she had handed to him. This headache might be permanent.

**Hope that wasn't too terrible for you guys, let me know if you liked or didn't like it, and what was wrong with it if you didn't like it. See you all next chapter!**


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